Jamie wasn't stupid.
That was the only reason he had managed to survive this long—and why he had gone looking for Lucien in the first place.
But intelligence didn't make this any easier.
Because the conclusion he was arriving at… was something no sane person would ever want to accept.
His father was already dead.
"You… what are you saying, Lucien?"
Jamie's voice trembled despite his effort to stay calm. "I just spoke to him. I saw him. He was sitting there… eating. Talking."
Lucien didn't answer immediately.
There was no need.
Some truths didn't become more believable just because you explained them better.
From the moment Jamie stepped back into this cursed town, he had already fallen into a carefully prepared trap. His father. His stepmother. Everything he thought he saw—
Nothing more than puppets.
Controlled.
Observed.
Played with.
And the one pulling the strings…
Was waiting.
Lucien leaned slightly back in his seat, his gaze calm but distant.
Mary Shaw.
A spirit that didn't simply kill.
She hunted bloodlines.
One generation after another—clean, methodical, merciless.
And Jamie… was next.
The car sped through the empty streets, its headlights cutting through the suffocating darkness of the town. No one spoke for a while.
Jamie stared ahead, his thoughts in chaos.
Lucien, on the other hand, was already planning the next move.
There was no point delaying anymore.
Everything had been confirmed.
Now—
It was time to end it.
The mansion appeared soon after.
Silent.
Lifeless.
Like a corpse waiting to be discovered.
Lucien stepped out of the car without hesitation. Jamie followed closely behind, his heartbeat growing louder with every step.
Behind them, the Walker couple remained inside the car, too terrified to even move.
Lucien didn't look back.
He walked straight to the front door—
And kicked it open.
Bang!
The sound echoed unnaturally loud in the stillness.
Jamie flinched, instinctively glancing at the dent left behind.
That kick alone was enough to tell him something—
Lucien wasn't normal.
Not even close.
They moved inside.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
No footsteps. No breathing. No signs of life.
Only the faint crackling of firelight from the living room.
Jamie's throat tightened as they stepped further in.
Then he saw him.
His father.
Sitting in a wheelchair near the fireplace.
Still.
Unmoving.
"Dad…?"
His voice came out weak.
He stepped forward slowly, each step heavier than the last, until finally—his hand reached out.
And touched.
The body collapsed.
Just like that.
No resistance.
No life.
Only a hollow shell.
Jamie froze.
His mind went blank as he stared at what remained—his father's body, emptied, altered… turned into something unnatural.
A puppet.
A corpse that had been used.
Controlled.
Displayed.
His breathing became erratic.
Everything started to make sense now—the pale skin, the stiffness, the unnatural tone in his voice…
The signs had always been there.
He just didn't want to see them.
"I… I…"
His legs nearly gave out.
And in that moment—
The world changed.
The sounds disappeared.
Completely.
Silence swallowed everything.
Jamie didn't notice.
But Lucien did.
From the corner of his eye, something moved.
A figure emerged from the darkness behind them.
Silent.
Weightless.
Her steps made no sound as she approached.
One step.
Two steps.
The firelight flickered—
And revealed her face.
Half human.
Half something else.
A twisted smile stretched across her pale features, her shadow dragging behind her like claws reaching out from hell itself.
Her target wasn't Jamie.
It never was.
Her eyes locked onto Lucien.
Hatred burned within them.
This was the one.
The one who had hurt her.
The one who had dared to strike her soul.
She would make him suffer.
The ghostly hand rose—
Ready to strike.
But just before it could descend—
Lucien turned.
Their eyes met.
And he smiled.
"Surprise."
For a split second—
Even the ghost froze.
Then—
Lucien moved.
His fist shot forward, carrying the force of his entire body—power drawn from the ground, guided through his frame, and released in a single devastating strike.
Bang!
The impact echoed like an explosion.
The woman's body bent unnaturally, lifted off the ground as if weightless—
But before she could fly back—
Lucien grabbed her.
His hand clamped onto her head like iron.
And slammed her into the ground.
Hard.
Once.
Twice.
The floor cracked under the force.
A shrill, inhuman scream tore through the silence.
This wasn't just physical damage.
The Qi flowing through Lucien's body surged into the attack—
Burning.
Tearing.
Directly striking the soul itself.
Mary Shaw felt it.
For the first time—
Pain.
Real pain.
Behind him, Jamie finally snapped out of his daze.
He turned—
And saw everything.
"Ella?!"
Shock. Rage. Confusion.
Everything collided at once.
But Lucien didn't stop.
Because the fight wasn't over.
Not even close.
Mary Shaw wasn't something that could be defeated so easily.
If fear didn't work—
Then she would force it.
The air shifted.
Outside, the sky darkened unnaturally.
Inside—
The world twisted.
Jamie suddenly felt it.
His senses sharpened—but in the worst way possible.
The shadows moved.
No—
They danced.
Twisting into grotesque shapes, crawling along the walls, stretching toward him.
Faces appeared.
Whispering.
Watching.
Waiting.
Cold fear seeped into his bones.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
A scream built in his throat—
Ready to burst out.
"Not bad," Lucien muttered under his breath.
Then—
He spoke.
His voice calm.
Steady.
Each word precise.
"Supreme clarity of mind, unshaken and pure…"
The chant flowed naturally, each syllable resonating with something deeper than sound.
It wasn't loud.
But it carried weight.
Authority.
Power.
With the final word—
Everything shattered.
The shadows disappeared.
The whispers died.
The suffocating fear—
Vanished.
Jamie gasped, as if breaking free from drowning, his mind suddenly clear again.
"What… what was that…?"
Across from them—
Mary Shaw recoiled.
Her expression twisted in disbelief.
"How is this possible?!"
Her voice was filled with rage.
And something else.
Fear.
Lucien exhaled softly.
Then looked at her—
Eyes cold.
"Too noisy."
His hand clenched into a fist again.
And this time—
He didn't hold back.